Girl talk
by shortcurlytop99
Summary: Clary is sent to watch over Camille Belcourt, who is being sent to trial in front of the clave. Camille and Clary argue and bicker, Camille giving Clary some uncomfortable truths and revealing some secrets of her own.


The night was bitter cold: snowflakes descended gracefully onto the busy New York streets. Clary was currently in the midst of a particularly large crowd crossing Park Avenue. She clutched her coat closer to her body, painfully aware that she stuck out next to the high flying fashionistas amongst her. Oh, well. Clary searched the crowd and frowned she was supposed to be with Isabelle, but she had lost her half way through. When she spotted a familiar looking shape in the crowd and, relieved, Clary rushed towards it. It was a girl with a silky, long black mane of hair that reached the middle of her back. Isabelle was noticeable no matter where she was and it wasn't just the other girl's beauty that was attracting, but her odd sense in style as well. However, any insults one might make against Isabelle would be instantly silenced as soon as one sensed the dangerous aura that surrounded her like a second skin. Clary took in Isabelle's short plum velvet dress, black tights, black boots and long grey wool coat. She rolled her eyes when she spotted Clary,

"Good, glad I found you. Remember to keep up."

"_You_ found me? _I_ found you, Isabelle. I'm sure you would have been content to have continued on your way with or without me."

Isabelle shrugged in non-committal agreement. But kept her pace brisk, and with her long legs striding away, Clary had to almost jog to keep up.

"Mom and Dad are out of the country. Again. So it's up to us to keep the peace. The Clave doesn't know that the tutor isn't here yet. So this is hush-hush, yes?"

Clary sighed. Mayrse and Robert Lightwood were in Idris on official business, so all the Downworlder business was left to really Alec. But Isabelle, who had much more intimate relations with Downworlders, had really taken it upon herself to spare Alec the chore and do it herself. Clary, who increasingly found it infuritating that she barely knew how to defend herself physically, had decided to go along with the Shadowhunter girl: doing anything useful was better than doing nothing. "Who are we seeing exactly?"

"The Silent Brothers,"

"What? I thought we were talking to Downworlders?"

Isabelle raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow,

"So now you want to hang out with werewolves and vampires?"

Clary pursed her lips together. No, she didn't want to, but she didn't want to talk to the Creepy Brothers either. Unfortunately, Isabelle had the final say in these matters, so Clary kept silent and followed Isabelle through the streets of Manhattan.

The graveyard was quiet, Isabelle and Clary's feet stepping through the grass was the only noise. The two of them stood in front of the angel statue.

"Is someone supposed to meet us?" Isabelle shrugged, but her brow was furrowed and her eyes intent.

"Yes, they should be waiting for us. They must be caught up with something. Might as well go in."

Isabelle took out a slim dagger out of her pocket. And slit her palm. She made the obligatory blood payment to the angel, allowing her and Clary into the city.

The first thing Clary noticed was that the silent city wasn't silent at all. At first it was nothing, and then as she and Isabelle went down the stairs, they could hear scraping and clanging. Clary exchanged a glance with Isabelle and the two of them ran down as fast as they could.

Brother Zachariah was standing in lead of the brothers behind him, facing three other people. Clary saw two male Shadowhunters dressed in black fighting gear restraining a young woman. Clary did a double take: the woman looked almost relaxed. Her shoulders were thrown back and her gaze was neutral. One look at her confirmed what Clary had suspected. She was a vampire: her pale skin and abnormal beauty were tell tale signs. Clary noticed she had dark traceries of veins at her temples; dark circles were under her fantastic green eyes. Isabelle, being Isabelle, stormed right into the conversation.

"What's going on?"

She addressed herself to Brother Zachariah. The vampire was watching Isabelle with a cool calculating expression that Clary didn't like at all.

Brother Zachariah's "voice" filled Clary's head. It wasn't all that emotionless this time, it had an undertone of anger to it.

_An outlaw has been sent to trial and we are to keep her here until the trial date is set._

Clary glanced at the vampire. She looked restless.

"Well, okay, what's the problem then?" Isabelle questioned. Clary noticed she was avoiding looking at the vampire woman.

_Miss Belcourt refuses to cooperate._

Something tickled at the back of Clary's memory. Why did that name sound so familiar? She vaguely remembered Luke mentioning her name, something to do with Simon.

Isabelle was rolling her eyes, disbelieving, but unlike Isabelle, remained silent. The women called Belcourt looked smug.

Then it hit her. Camille Belcourt. She said it out loud before her brain could catch up to her mouth

"Camille Belcourt? You went out with Magnus Bane, didn't you?"

Clary, once hearing herself, mentally wanted to give her face a slap. Wow, that was stupid. And from the looks of the people around her, she wasn't alone in the thought.

Camille laughed carelessly,

"A long time ago, Nephilim." She tilted her head to the side, "Has he spoken of me?"

Clary was spared a response by one of the Shadowhunters speaking,

"That's enough out of you. We have to find someone to watch her."

This time Isabelle spoke up,

"What for? I'm sure she'll be fine."

The Shadowhunter who spoke glared at Isabelle,

"This is no of your business, Lightwood. She is highly dangerous and we need to make sure she is contained."

"I am in the room, Nephilim; do not speak of me like I am not."

The Shadowhunter ignored this and Isabelle sighed,

"Look, I really need to talk to the brothers. Can't you watch her?"

"No,"

"Why not?"

"I'm not explaining myself to a child."

Clary could tell Isabelle was incredibly pissed off for being called a child.

"I'm not a child, Caleb. Besides, if this is such impudence for you; Clary can watch her."

The Shadowhunter named Caleb glanced at Clary, incredulous.

"Didn't I just say this was dangerous?"

"She can handle it."

"She's not even trained."

Clary resisted the urge to point out, like Camille did, that she was indeed in the room. Clary could now see why Downworlders disliked Nephilim: they could be really pigheaded.

"I'll cooperate if Morgenstern is my guard."

Caleb and Isabelle stared at Camille like she suddenly started to speak in Swahili.

"Really?" Caleb sounded dubious but Camille nodded,

"Yes, but I need blood. Any volunteers?"

At their stricken expressions Camille just laughed,

"A joke, Nephilim: Learn how to appreciate one."

Caleb didn't look like he was going to appreciate anything Camille said, but instead he turned to Clary. His eyes were the color of stone, grey and unmoving.

"Can you handle this?"

Clary didn't really know what to say. Isabelle spoke for her,

"Sure she is. I'll be around as well. No biggie."

Caleb seemed torn but then turned resigned.

"Fine. Come," he, Clary and Camille went down several flights of stairs until they hit the dungeon.

Caleb shackled Camille to the wall and roughly handed Clary a stake, a witch light stone and a few bottles of a dark liquid.

"Here, someone will switch with you in the morning." Caleb went out the door and then shut it, effectively locking Clary inside.

The room was dark and Clary couldn't see a thing. A soft voice broke the silence,

"Use the witch light and put it on the floor. Then pass me a bottle."

Clary did what she was told. The witch light gave the room a small source of light, only illuminating half of it.

Clary turned to Camille and handed her a bottle. Camille smiled, thankfully no fangs, and drank it in one gulp.

Clary turned quickly away and stared at the wall. She could hear Camille stretch out.

After a few beats of silence Camille spoke,

"Well, this has the beginnings of a fun night."

Clary didn't know what to do. Talk to her or not? This was going to be one long night if she decided to ignore Camille's presence entirely so she said,

"Why are you an outlaw?"

Clary turned so she was looking at Camille. She was contemplative, lying on her side in a Greek-Goddess position,

"I am what Shadowhunters call "rogue": as you know I killed those circle members. So now my past is catching up with me. Ergo; a trial,"

Camille looked significantly better after drinking the blood. The dark circles had faded to gray and the traceries of veins had vanished. Even her blond locks seemed to have more shine to them.

"So…What do you know? About me, that is?" Clary asked, totally uncomfortable.

Camille rolled her head back like she was stretching her neck,

"Not too much. You are Valentine's daughter, I hear you have special talents with runes. You didn't know you were an actually a child of the Angel up until a few months ago. You are currently dating reckless, idiotic Jace Lightwood; previously believed to be your brother. And you are also good friends with a certain Simon Lewis, a vampire who can withstand sunlight. Not to mention you saved the Clave from your father's demon battle in Alicante."

Holy crap, she knew a lot.

"Okay, so you're well informed."

"I have my sources," she purred coolly, smoothing out the skirt of her dress. She looked up at Clary, her eyes sparkling mischievously,

"Now your turn. What do you know about me?"

"Uh, you used to go out with Magnus; you're ex vampire leader of New York and you know Simon and Raphael."

Camille smiled wistfully,

"Very vague, but somewhat accurate,"

"What am I missing?"

Camille ignored this and rolled onto her back, facing away from Clary. Clary sighed and twirled the stake in her hands.

"Are you friends with Alexander Lightwood?"

Clary was taken back but answered anyway,

"Yes,"

Camille seemed to be nodding to herself. After a while she said,

"I love Magnus. Always did. You can pass _that_ along to your Lightwood friend."

Her voice was harsh and cold. Clary felt uneasy but just agreed. She heard Camille sigh,

"Oh, this is dull. Don't you have any sort of talent? Amuse me,"

"I don't have to do anything for you. I'm just keeping watch."

"It's going to be an awfully long night; I suggest you brush up on your conversational skills."

Clary turned away and faked going to sleep.

"Simon is in danger, Clary."

At this Clary straightened up and faced Camille, meeting her gaze,

"That's not funny."

"It wasn't supposed to be. Your Simon is in danger every moment he is in existence. Which means so are you."

"Excuse me?"

"He is a deadly combination. Impossible to kill, a vampire that can walk in sunlight and everyone wants him. So those who _do_ want him will use the people he cares about against him."

Clary wanted to tell Camille to shut up, but what she was saying was absolutely true.

"Not that you would have noticed," Camille continued, not taking notice or care to Clary's obvious distress,

"Jace Herondale has you quite preoccupied, doesn't he? What Simon does or how he feels doesn't affect you much. Well it used to, didn't it? That's changed."

Clary cursed the tears that were threatening to spill over,

"Why are you saying this?" Clary asked quietly.

Camille's voice was soft, but it had an edge sharpened by cruelty,

"Because, Morgenstern, it's true."

Clary heard a chocked sob and with dawning horror, realized it was her. She turned away from Camille, swallowing down her cries.

She heard the sound of metal being dragged across stone. Camille had seated herself right next to Clary.

"The truth hurts, doesn't it, Clary?"

That it did.

"You're wrong though. I love Simon, he's my best friend, and I care about him."

Camille frowned slightly, her beautiful face full of gentle sorrow, she actually sounded sad when she said,

"Sometimes that just isn't enough."


End file.
